


Arcane Marks

by Kayani_Iriel



Series: Raventrust Week 2020 [4]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M, Magic, Raventrust Week 2020, Tattoos, feathers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:08:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26138638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayani_Iriel/pseuds/Kayani_Iriel
Summary: There's a small scar on Khadgar's wrist. Medivh wants to help cover it up.
Relationships: Khadgar/Medivh (Warcraft)
Series: Raventrust Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893232
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	Arcane Marks

**Author's Note:**

> Raventrust Week 2020: Feather or Haunted

He’s tracing a small scar on Khadgar’s wrist when he speaks up. “Potion accident in Dalaran, oh, a decade a year ago? I’ve thought about getting it covered up, but you’re the only one who’s ever noticed.”

“What would you cover it with?” He asks, still running a finger over it.

“No idea, that’s why I never bothered.”

The thought strikes him, and before he stops to consider it, the spell is on his lips. It’s simple, spoken before his apprentice reacts. He traces across the scar, summons his arcane sight to view his handiwork. Much better.

“What did you do?”

He shrugs, smiles. “Use your ability to see the arcane.”

He knows when he does, the sharp intake of breath, the finger tracing the pale blue feather now over the scar. He drops his wrist, letting him move about and examine it more closely.

“Interesting. And it didn’t occur to you to ask me if I wanted this, before putting it on me?”

He shrugs again, unbothered. “How many mages run around with their arcane sight? Who’s going to roll up your sleeve?”

“Not the point, Medivh.”

“I suppose I could teach you the spell, let you return the favor.”

There’s a long pause, long enough he wonders if he’s going to get a response. Then, the request. “Please.”

“Very well.” He speaks the words, clearly and slowly, correcting him on one pronunciation that’s not _quite_ right, but would have been close enough. May as well get it exact. “Trace where you want it to go. On yourself, or someone else.”

“Always feathers?”

“Whatever you’re thinking of.”

Khadgar’s quiet again, but he knows he’s considering. He hears him move, sees the motion in the dim light, and he’s reaching out, brushing a hand across his chest. It’s not a large gesture, nothing like a huge revenge mark, just small and soft. He resists the urge to look down immediately, letting him finish and pull back.

He pulls his shirt away, looking down. Dark red, glowing like a coal in a fireplace, and at an angle, is a feather across his heart. He feels a flutter, just below it, but it has nothing to do with the symbol itself.

“I see,” is all he can muster at first. “Birds of a feather?”

Young Trust smiles, cups his cheek.

“I hope there’s no mark there, that would be unseemly.”

That earns him a laugh. “I know the rules of markings. Nothing obscene, nothing with a name, and nothing where others can see. Always small, always discreet.”

He moves closer, calling up the spell again. Carefully, he marks a path on his former apprentice, below the silver collar, above his nipples, a wide, low ring of feathers. He scrutinizes it, adding a couple, until they hang there like a mantle.

“Beautiful.”

“Not nearly as beautiful as you are.”

“Hardly. Nothing is as beautiful as the arcane.”

“You’d be surprised, Young Trust.”

There’s no answer, just gentle hands on him, holding him close. He hears the spell, and his shoulder blades are being stroked in long, even movements. After a moment, he’s rolled away, and Khagdar continues, touching and moving across his back carefully. He lies on his stomach, waiting, smiling down where only he’s aware of it.

Khadgar rolls him back over, coaxes him into a sitting position. He lets his apprentice work his shirt off, and then moves to a mirror mounted on the wall to examine the handiwork.

He has wings now, deep red and where they’d be if he did grow raven’s wings in a human form. The feathers are large and long, proportional to his size, and lovely. He shivers at their beauty and swears he hears rustling. It’s arcane sight and love, nothing more, but for a moment, he wants to fly about the room.

He returns to the sofa, wrapping around Khadgar, holding him close.

“You like?”

“Very much, Young Trust. I shall wear them with pride.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Twitter now! [@IrielKayani](https://twitter.com/IrielKayani)


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